


Denial, Then Anger

by enthusiasmgirl



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jeri is a Mess, Light Masochism, Post-Episode: s01e08 The Defenders, Self-Hatred, hurt/comfort?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl/pseuds/enthusiasmgirl
Summary: Foggy triesnotto deal with his feelings about Matt. Until, finally, it's Jeri Hogarth of all people who forces him to.





	Denial, Then Anger

**Author's Note:**

> So this is... kinda weeeeeird. I didn't mean it to be, but it got a bit away from me. I love it anyway.
> 
> I just had a lot of feelings about Foggy's relationship with Jeri Hogarth in Defenders, and still some unresolved questions and feelings about Jeri's love triangle and actions in Jessica Jones that I wanted to explore.
> 
> Thanks to misswonderheart for doing a quick beta-read of this.

He was weirding everyone out. He knew he was. Nobody quite knew what to do with him. How could they when he didn't quite know what to do with himself?

Karen kept texting him. The messages weren't personal. She didn't push or pry into his emotional state, didn't badger him to know how he was feeling or try to be a shoulder to cry on. That wasn't her way. Instead, the texts were matter-of-fact updates on the clean-up at Midland Circle, on the appearance of a new vigilante dressed in green and gold around Hell's Kitchen, on the outcome of Matt's cases as his clients sought out new representation, one by one.

Her way of keeping hope alive. Of keeping Matt in their lives. He ignored them and never responded. Matt was dead. He needed to move on. Had been moving on, even before a skyscraper collapsed and buried Matt's body under miles of steel and cement.

Claire kept calling him. "You loved him and I know he loved you too. Let me know if you ever need to talk." He didn't think he ever would, and so he never called her back.

Casseroles kept showing up on his doorstep. And lasagnas. And pies and other baked goods. Strangely, he suspected they were the work of Jessica Jones, but he knew that in a million years he would never get her to admit it. He ate them because his mother taught him not to waste food, even though they tasted like ash in his mouth.

He broke up with Marci. Couldn't really tell her why. But she knew. It's not like he was any fun to be around anyway. Besides, how could he possibly love anyone else when he hated himself so much?

Everyone kept expecting him to crack. To break down and cycle through the five stages of grief like a normal person is supposed to when their best friend, their partner, is suddenly gone. Nobody seemed to understand that Foggy was only interested in acceptance. It was what it was. Nothing he did would ever make it okay. What did he need any of the other stages for?

Instead, he buried himself under a mountain of work, taking his own earlier advice to Matt. As long as he was working, he wasn't thinking about anything else. He allowed himself to be completely at the service of Hogarth Chao and Benowitz, made his life about telling people how he and the firm could be of service to them.

Then, one night that was technically now morning, hard at work in his new corner office and lit by the lights of the city shining through one full wall of glass, Foggy was interrupted by the sight of Jeri Hogarth leaning against his doorway, staring at him thoughtfully. She was almost smiling. He immediately took notice, pleased and surprised. Even an almost-smile from Jeri spoke volumes.

"Did you need something?" he asked. "I thought that I had until tomorrow morning to complete the brief on the Veracruz case."

"Why are you still here, Franklin?" she asked him, slurring the words slightly. Foggy looked away from his computer screen to take her in more carefully, noticed her stocking feet and the way her skirt was pulled up so that her slip was visible.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked her, concerned. It explained things but was disconcerting. Jeri was the most closed-off, invulnerable person he knew. Including the ones with superpowers. He suddenly had a vision of Matt's eyes without his glasses covering them, of Matt giggling, of Matt clutching his elbow. He shook it off.

"I have been," Jeri told him. An arm previously hidden from Foggy's view suddenly appeared, holding a bottle of expensive scotch. "I'm tired of doing it alone. Have a drink with me." She stepped into the room and sat down across from him like she owned the place. Foggy supposed she did.

Foggy shook his head firmly. "Not interested," he told her. "You'll thank me in the morning when this work is done and I'm not too hung over for court." He tried to go back to work and ignore her, but couldn't help himself from posing a follow-up question. "Are you alright?"

She didn't have to ask "Are you?" back. It was implied when she shook the bottle at him again. He leaned back in his chair, considering. She didn't seem like she would leave him alone, and so he finally took a swig. It burned. He heard her laugh when he spasmed as it went down.

"It's good," he finally told her, once he regained control of his vocal cords.

"At $6000 a bottle, it better be," Jeri told him, and that pained Foggy more than swallowing it had.

"What's the occasion?" he asked as she grabbed the bottle from him for another drink.

"My 10th wedding anniversary," she replied. 

Foggy didn't know what to say to that.

"Well," Jeri followed up. "It would have been."

He had heard the rumors around the office about Jeri's tragic love life. Everyone at Hogarth, Benowitz and Chao knew that Jeri had come perilously close to being asked to leave the firm altogether after the details of it were just barely kept from hitting the New York City papers. A lesbian love triangle that featured all of the most cliched tropes of heterosexual ones - a midlife crisis that led to an affair with a young, hot secretary, the scorned ex-wife seeking money and revenge, and all of it ending in murder. It was a scandal that had taken a lot of the firm's political and social capital to bury.

But in a million years Foggy had never imagined that he, of all people, would be the one Jeri would choose to open up about it to.

"It's none of my business," Foggy told her. He tried to return to his work.

Jeri didn't argue. She just passed him back the bottle and didn't leave.

Eventually, he couldn't ignore her anymore. He took another drink. They stared at each other.

"You didn't answer my question," Jeri asked him.

"What?" Foggy replied, confused.

"Why are you still here, Franklin?" she asked for the second time, over-enunciating each word.

"Where else would I be?" he said after a moment.

"Can I tell you something?" Jeri asked, and Foggy wanted to tell her no but knew she would continue anyway. "You are, truly, one of the most dedicated and talented lawyers we have had come through our doors in a long time. You're patient, but also forceful when you need to be. You believe in the law, but are also more than willing to exploit its loopholes and technicalities for a win when necessary. And most importantly, you're willing to have zero personal life outside of this office if we ask you to, and do it with a smile on your face."

Foggy was moved by the sincerity in her voice. "Thank you. I try," he said with a smile.

Jeri leaned back in her chair, examining him. Foggy didn't know what she might say next, but he certainly wasn't expecting her to follow up with "What the fuck were you doing with Murdock?"

"Excuse me?" Foggy asked, surprised and infuriated. He nearly asked her to get the fuck out of his office before he caught himself and remembered that she employed him and he loved his job.

"No, really. I know that it's generally bad form to speak ill of the dead, but I want to know. You left Landman and Zack, which in the end was a good career move but you couldn't possibly have known that, to go out on your own and waste your ambition and talent on worthless cases for no money."

"Don't..." Foggy tried to stop her, but she couldn't be stopped.

"That Punisher case? You took on impossible odds there and acquitted yourself admirably, even if your client was found guilty. But Murdock was a trainwreck. Your exact opposite. Impatient, willing to throw a punch at something that required a scalpel, wanting the spotlight when he needed to fade into the background, unreliable, clearly distracted by personal matters... I'm just trying to wrap my mind around it, because it's obvious that you feel some measure of guilt and personal anguish now that he's gone. And I know that feeling."

"I don't really think that you do," Foggy told her defensively.

Jeri’s entire demeanor seemed to suddenly turn on him. If Foggy didn’t know that she didn’t like men, he would think that she was coming on to him based on the intensity of it. She wanted something from him, Foggy knew. He had no clue what it might be.

"Wendy, my wife, was such a bitch," Jeri said suddenly. Foggy swore he felt whiplash as he realized that the conversation had somehow turned back to her after all of that.

"She was," Jeri said, like she was trying to convince herself it was true. "Nobody saw that but me. Everyone was so willing to believe I was the problem, but she could be withholding. And petty. And everything I did when I was with her was met with judgment and scorn. She was everything I wasn't, and everything I wanted to live up to and I hated her. She drove me crazy. But I also loved her."

"Jeri..." Foggy said, again trying to stop her, uncomfortable.

"I loved her so much. But I spent so many years giving her so much of myself that I just didn't want to give anymore. I wanted something simple. Something that felt like what I deserved. And in the end that's what I got. What I deserved."

If it were anyone else, Foggy knew that there would be crying at that. At least a tear. But this was Jeri. She looked wrecked, but her eyes were dry. So where was that sniffling coming from?

“You loved him,” Jeri said. And Foggy realized that it was coming from him. He was crying. He could feel the tears streaming down his face. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop. He collapsed his head into his hands and let it wash over him, uncontrollable. The warmth of the scotch permeated him. He realized that it had loosened something inside of him that had been holding everything back. It felt like a dam bursting.

He felt a hand on his back, comforting him. Cried harder because it was Jeri doing the comforting.

"You loved him,” Jeri said. "It got complicated. And you feel like it all got away from you. You don't want to think about it. But eventually you have to."

"Why do you care?" Foggy wailed.

"Because I had it coming to me. But you didn't," she told him. "I meant what I said. He was a trainwreck and I don't want you to let yourself just be collateral damage. You're better than that."

Foggy looked up at her, standing there next to him. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Jessica told me what Murdock did," she replied. "Don't blame her. She was too drunk to even sit up straight. She didn't mean to tell me, and I won't tell anyone. But I couldn't unhear it. And it has been obvious to me for some time now that you are pushing yourself to exhaustion, using this office and this job as a way to avoid thinking about it. That you feel like you did something or maybe didn't do enough to keep him from going to Midland Circle that night. But you didn't kill him."

"He was my family," Foggy sobbed. "I brought him that suit. I told him to put it on. I knew what he might do and I let him go."

"Oh please," Jeri said firmly, "He made a choice," Jeri said firmly. "He killed himself. And you're angry at him for it. And that's fine. Everyone else might think that what he did was selfless. That he did it for the city. That doesn't mean that you can't call him selfish. That you can't hate him for leaving you and putting everyone else first. It doesn't make you an asshole, it just makes you human. Put that anger where it belongs and stop taking it out on yourself."

"I can't," Foggy told her. "He only wanted me to be his friend. He needed me."

"You didn't fail him, Franklin. He failed you," Jeri reiterated again. "Objectively, maybe he did have to do what he had to do. Maybe he did save millions of lives that night. But that doesn't help you right now, does it? He's gone and you're here and only one of you have to live with the consequences of things. Only one of you has to feel the pain of being left behind. He's not here to be hurt if you blame him. He's not the one stuck living every day blaming himself. You can't push him any further away than where he is now. So put it on him, where it belongs and where it won't destroy you, and move on. Let it go. Live your life. Don't let him take you with him."

"I... I..." Foggy sobbed harder.

"You're angry at him," Jeri told him. "Say it."

"I'm angry at him," Foggy told her. 

"Why?" Jeri asked. "Why are you angry?"

"I'm angry..." he sat up slightly. "I'm angry because he didn't listen to me. I told him Daredevil would get him killed. He didn't care."

"What didn't he care about?" Jeri demanded to know.

Foggy pulled back at that, not knowing what Jeri was trying to do and wishing she would leave it alone.

“What didn’t he care about?” Jeri asked again. “Say it.”

“He didn't care about me!" Foggy snapped, and now he was fired up, feeling it.  "About our firm or our friendship. Or Karen. Or anyone but himself.”

"Now we're talking," Jeri said. "Keep going. Let it out." Jeri pulled him to his feet and he swayed slightly, drunk on both the scotch and the emotions. 

"He needed it,” Foggy yelled. “ He couldn't live without it. Well, I needed him and I can't live without him now so what the hell good does that do for me!"

If Foggy had been wary of Jeri’s half-smile earlier, the way she was grinning now infuriated him. What did she want from him? Why was she pushing him like this? 

“What would you say to him right now if you could?” Jeri asked him. “Imagine I’m him. Let me have it.”

“Really?” Foggy demanded to know.

“That’s right. Give me everything you’ve got,” Jeri told him. “Make it hurt.”

Foggy steeled himself, and imagined Matt standing there instead of Jeri. He pictured the arrogant look that Matt got when he thought he was right, the upright, confident stance that he would use in court when he was about to demolish a witness. And then he pictured Matt in the Daredevil costume with those stupid horns, swaying on his feet, bruised and battered underneath it. It was too much. He couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“Why doesn't everything we've been through together mean anything to you?” he demanded to know. “You threw it all away, Matt. And for what? Elektra. Guess what, I never said it to you in college because I knew it wouldn't have helped anything at the time, but Elektra was always a bitch. And when you were with her, she turned you into an asshole. Although maybe that's just who you really were all along and I've just always been a fool. Maybe you have always been an arrogant, self-righteous, lying jack-ass who played me, who made me think that one person really could change the world, that I could be that person..."

He stopped, realizing where his train of thought was heading. “...Who inspired me,” he continued. “Who made me a better person. Who I never got to tell that to. Who died not knowing that."

"What?" Jeri said, incredulously. "No, no, no, come on Franklin," she begged him. "Let it out. Keep going. Hit me!"

And that was the end of it. His vision of Matt vanished immediately and it was only Jeri there, looking at him with a desperation and neediness that he couldn’t unsee. All of the emotions Foggy was feeling suddenly drained out of him. The metaphorical flood dissolved into puddles and mud at his feet, as opposed to the very real pools of spilled scotch where they had knocked the bottle over that were slowly seeping into the expensive carpet. 

She really wanted him to hit her. Really thought she could convince him to. And finally, she was crying. This was never about how he felt about Matt to her. It was her wedding anniversary, he remembered she had told him. And this was what she thought she deserved.

"I'm not going to hit you, Jeri,” he told her.

"Please, I can't..." Jeri tried to explain. "I'm sorry. God. I just..."

"No, I get it," Foggy told her, sincerely. "I'm sorry."

She looked offended that he would feel sorry for her. She seemed to sober up, pulling her skirt down and standing up straight. "This never happened," she told him. 

"What never happened?" Foggy asked with a sad smile.

She went to leave, clearly shaken. He called out to her as she stepped through the door.

"Thank you," Foggy told her. And he meant it.

"For what?" Jeri asked, back to being aloof. "And I expect that brief on the Veracruz case to be on my desk at 9am sharp."

Foggy sank down into his office chair, exhausted but also feeling lighter than before. Jeri may have been a mess but she wasn’t wrong. He was angry. At both Matt and himself. But maybe that was okay. Maybe he would be okay. Someday. The alternative, not dealing with his feelings? Well, he'd just seen what that led to. He realized that he would have to figure it out.

In the meantime, he cracked his knuckles and got back to work, hoping what he turned in the next day wouldn't reflect the buzz he still had going from the scotch.


End file.
